


Believing Makes It Easy

by Cheetara



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheetara/pseuds/Cheetara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He went inside and just stood there. The darkness offered up the faintest memory, a scent, familiar somehow. Dark eyes flickered from side to side scoping the room, his nerves were on edge but something was telling him he could relax here. He was alone and no-one was coming for him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Believing Makes It Easy

His feet had brought him here somehow, to the facility. Three months after the Potomac something had pulled him to this place, the Avengers’ home. A training camp? He didn’t know what it was they did here but he did know it was vacant after lurking in the shadows watching for the last three days.

There were comings and goings, no-one he recognised but that didn’t mean anything considering what they had done to his memories. He sat still for hours on end, sniper training and instinct still intact keeping him hidden in the trees that bordered the grounds. Sometimes he thought about turning and leaving, just walking away across the world, but a small warm flicker in his gut kept him where he was. Was it an emotion? Yes, he had those still, some nights he prayed to be blank, prayed not to feel, but the scabs kept on falling off and the blood kept pouring out.

His eyes looked black on this moonless night as he scanned back and forward again for movement. Satisfied it was clear he slowly rose to his feet and quickly made his way to the outer wall. Skirting around like a shadow he reached the door. He felt for one of the pouches on his belt and clicked it open, producing a small bullet shaped device which he jammed unceremoniously into the doorlock. 

_Fzzt._

Thankfully the water hadn’t damaged it and the door clicked open when he pushed it gently. On soft silent feet he crept down the long corridor, the lights were low, power saving. It was warm in here, something he hadn’t experienced for a while. There were definitely cameras watching him, he would take care of that later. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was headed, again his steps were purely driven by some unknown need. After rounding a corner several doors presented themselves to him. He stopped, eyes darting from one to the next, considering. Finally he strode to the end of the corridor, to the last door and was surprised when he pressed down on the handle and it opened.

He went inside and just stood there. The darkness offered up the faintest memory, a scent, familiar somehow. Dark eyes flickered from side to side scoping the room, his nerves were on edge but something was telling him he could relax here. He was alone and no-one was coming for him.

As his eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom the living space revealed itself. Two couches, a coffee table, stereo, a kitchen and breakfast bar beyond that, a widescreen television on the wall, a record player with a vinyl left on the turntable, a door presumably to a bathroom and one to a bedroom.   
He waited and nothing happened. He headed into the bedroom.

There was a sliding wardrobe on one side, a modern desk and chair at the other. There were papers on the desk and pencils, charcoals strewn all over, smudges on the corner of a book. The bed was made, he edged forward and pressed down on the soft covers, frowning. The scent was stronger here. It was almost talking to him.

_Safe… safe._

He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it, lank brown strands falling around his face. He went to the desk, his hand hovering over the book. He quickly rescanned the room before lowering his fingers gently down to touch the cover of it, his thumb brushed the edge and he peeled back the page. Rough sketches of ordinary people and landscapes opened themselves up to him, he felt he had seen them before, perhaps not these exact drawings but similar. Turning to the next page he froze. 

A dark shadowy figure with longer hair, square cut jaw and clear piercing eyes. The owner of this sketchbook had drawn him. Was that really him? There was something else in this representation, something extra, something he was now missing. 

He replaced the book carefully and went to the wardrobe.

It slid open silently. He tentatively reached out his hand and brushed the tips of his flesh fingers along the clothes that hung on the rail making the hangers clink. He stopped when he reached the dark canvas and pushed the other clothes out of the way taking it down off the hanger. The fabric was coarse under his skin as he ran his hand over it, in the darkness he could still make out the blue, the red and the white. It spoke to him too, the softest whisper in his ear, an echo of the past.

_Bucky._

He sat down on the edge of the bed with the suit on his lap, swallowed and closed his eyes. The pads of his fingers traced over the ridges and seams, marking out the star on the chest. A breath he felt he had been holding for over 70 years left his chest and then he was hugging the suit against him, breathing this achingly familiar scent in, trying to process the sudden ripple of memories that was rapidly becoming a tidal wave and threatening to drown him. He was back under the water, reaching for that hand that he knew he couldn’t let go of, couldn’t leave, pulling him back up with him. 

_I fell. I won’t let him fall._

He wiped at his face and his hand came away wet. It wasn’t from the Potomac, he was still sitting on the bed. On his bed, surrounded with his scent, a security blanket, a reminder of the man he used to be. A good man?

 

He got to his feet, surprised that his legs weren’t shaking, replaced the suit on the hanger and closed the door. He smoothed down the bedclothes and quickly left the room, closing the door and slinking quietly back down the corridor and outside into the cold black of the night. He pulled out the lock-breaking device and slipped back into the trees, feeling somewhat lighter than before.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

“Are you gonna go after him?”

Steve’s eyes were soft as he watched the security feed playback. 

“No.” He replied.

Natasha sighed, crossing her arms. “And if he comes back? Steve, you know that the others will see this as pretty major security issue…” 

“He won’t come back, I’m certain.” Steve assured.

Natasha shrugged and left Steve alone in the meeting room, gazing at the screen.

“Not yet.” He whispered, a sad smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Some title inspiration - [Shearwater - Believing Makes It Easy ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6BrTOy54kA)


End file.
